Page 2 of Coming for Her Brother’s Best Friend (Coming For Christmas #4)

SIDNEY

The alarm on my phone buzzed at six a.m., but I was already awake.

I’d been lying in the dark for an hour, mentally walking through everything I needed to get done and trying to convince my stomach to undo all the knots.

This wedding had to be perfect. I wouldn’t get a second chance.

Harper was counting on me, and the future of Bluebird Events literally depended on it.

The weight of it pressed on my ribs like a too-tight seatbelt.

I shoved back the comforter and swung my feet onto the floor.

The room was still dark and a little chilly, but I moved on autopilot, because I didn’t have time to waste.

By seven, I was dressed in black leggings and a chunky sweater, my hair twisted up in a clip, and standing in the ballroom with my notebook held against my chest.

The space felt too big and empty in the early morning light coming through the windows. The chandeliers were dimmed to golden embers, the echoes of my boot soles the only sound. I walked the perimeter of the room, measuring out table placements and marking the floor with squares of painter’s tape.

The scent of pine from the giant Christmas tree in the lobby lingered.

Though the ballroom was beautiful, it felt cold and neutral.

With everything I had planned, that would change.

By the time I was done, the room would be transformed into a gold-and-white winter wonderland with velvet-draped tables, gold Chiavari chairs, and candlelight glinting off crystal stemware while snow fell outside the giant windows.

It had to be perfect. Because if I pulled this off, Harper’s wedding wouldn’t just be my first big event, it would launch Bluebird. And if I didn’t… well, there wasn’t space in my budget, or my pride, for that. Dad always said a Kincaid didn’t get to flinch when it mattered. So I didn’t.

The first delivery truck pulled up to the loading dock at eight sharp. I’d already downed half a pot of coffee, and my nerves had been all over the place while I waited.

“Good morning,” the driver called as he hopped down from the cab, his breath puffing in the cold.

“Good morning. You’ve got the gold Chiavari chairs?” I asked as I looked at my checklist. His was the first of many deliveries I was expecting today.

He checked his own notes. “Yep. Two hundred gold chairs. I’ve got a whole truckload for you.”

A weight slid off my shoulders.

The lodge had offered its standard padded banquet chairs, but I didn’t want to do “standard.” I needed Harper’s wedding to look like it belonged on the cover of a bridal magazine.

Gold Chiavari chairs would give me an edge.

They were sleek, elegant, and would add just enough sparkle to elevate the whole room.

The hotel staff wheeled stacks of chairs into the ballroom on dollies. I counted under my breath to make sure they hadn’t shorted me and checked for scratches like my entire reputation depended on it. Because it did.

“Careful with that one,” I called when one of the guys bumped a chair leg against the doorframe. He muttered something that sounded like yes, ma’am and slowed down.

The chairs gleamed in the soft light, spindly and perfect. I spotted one with a chipped spindle halfway down the stack and pounced. “This one needs to go back. I need a replacement here by tomorrow morning.”

The driver nodded, scribbling on his clipboard. “We should have a few extras. If not, I’ll get another on the next truck.”

“Thank you.” I forced my tone to stay calm and professional. Inside, my pulse was still jack hammering. One mistake, one slip, and people would see exactly how new at this I really was.

“That’s a lot of chairs,” a voice drawled behind me. “How many folks are the bride and groom expecting?”

I startled and spun around, almost dropping my pen.

Hayes leaned in the doorway like he had nowhere else in the world to be, his big hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and his broad shoulders blocking the view of the lobby behind him.

“Do you ever knock?” I asked, pushing hair out of my face.

“I didn’t realize the ballroom was your private office.” His gaze slid over stacks and stacks of chairs. “What’s wrong with the hotel chairs?”

“These are Chiavari chairs,” I said.

His brows arched. “And that means what, exactly?”

“It means they’re elegant and much better-looking than the lodge’s standard banquet chairs.

They’re also lightweight and stackable, and that makes them easier for the crew to move.

” I grabbed one from the stack and held it up so he could see the slim gold spindles and delicate legs. “And they look beautiful in pictures.”

He eyed me like I was speaking a foreign language. “Looks like a chair to me.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s a detail that elevates the entire room. Trust me, when Harper walks in here on her wedding day, she’s going to notice. Guests will too. It’s subconscious, but it matters.”

He tipped his head slightly, that unreadable look in his eyes. “I always figured you liked order, but I didn’t realize you lived for it.”

“Lived for it?”

“Yeah.” His mouth curved just enough to be irritating. “Looks like if a chair’s an inch off, it might ruin your whole day.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “What ruins my day is people getting in my way.”

His smile flickered wider than before. “Fair enough.”

The linens came next. They were folded into huge bins, so heavy I’d never be able to lift one on my own. I’d chosen winter white velvet tablecloths and gold satin runners. I knelt down and smoothed my hand over the fabric. It was thick and buttery-soft, catching the light like fresh snow.

For a split second, I let myself picture it all together: the white tables glowing under candlelight, gold-rimmed chargers sparkling like halos, and Harper’s face lighting up when she walked in. The image was so real it almost hurt. Then, I snapped the lid shut and got back to work.

By late morning, the ballroom looked like a staging ground for a luxury invasion. Chairs stacked six high. Linens piled in pristine folds. Crates of gold-rimmed charger plates, still wrapped in tissue, lined the back wall.

I was crouched on the floor with my tape measure when boots creaked behind me again.

“Do you ever take a break?” Hayes asked.

“No.” I brushed past him to finish counting the gold napkins I’d brought in. “Breaks are for people who aren’t building an empire.”

“Figures.”

I shot him a glare. “Shouldn’t you be… I don’t know… skiing or something?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “I’m not much of a skier.”

“Then maybe go sit by the fire with a hot toddy and leave me to work in peace.”

One corner of his mouth curved, as if I’d said something funny. “Are you always this bossy?”

“Yes,” I said, barely glancing at him. “That’s how I get things done.”

His gaze swept over the ballroom again, lingering on the stacks of chairs and the rows of labeled bins. “Looks like it’s working.”

“Working is the keyword. Unless you want to alphabetize place cards, I suggest you get a move on.” Being this close to him made me uncomfortable.

Made me think about the last time I’d seen him, when we’d almost crossed that invisible line…

the one that said my brother’s best friend was off limits.

I refocused my attention on the napkins, and when I looked up again, he was gone.

By two, the lighting techs had shown up to map out power runs and rigging.

I followed them around with my clipboard, pointing out where I wanted uplighting along the walls and extra pin spots for the cake table.

When one of them discovered a missing dimmer pack, I was on the phone to the rental company in less than a minute, my voice calm and professional even though my heart hammered like a jackrabbit being chased by a coyote.

The techs gave me wary side-eyes like I might combust on the spot, but I couldn’t afford to care.

When I hung up, Hayes was leaning against a column, his arms crossed, watching me like I was the star of a particularly fascinating reality TV show.

“You run this place like a drill sergeant,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, it is.”

His matter-of-fact tone threw me. “Oh.”

“Are you always this wound tight?” he added.

“Yes,” I said again, even though my voice came out a little too fast.

He studied me for a second, then nodded like he’d just confirmed something he already suspected.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” I asked.

“Like what?” The edges of his eyes crinkled in amusement, like I was more entertaining than watching the snow fall outside.

I put my hands on my hips, unsettled with him constantly dropping in. “Like not distracting me?”

He bit down on his bottom lip and scuffed his cowboy boot along the floor as he turned around. “Holler if you need help, Sid.”

“I won’t,” I called out after him, hoping with everything inside me that those words wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

By the time the last vendor left, it was after eight.

The ballroom was quiet again, golden light glinting off the chandeliers and the stacks of chairs waiting to be set tomorrow.

My shoulders were tight, my feet ached, and my hair had come half out of the clip hours ago, but I’d survived Day One without a single catastrophe.

I set my clipboard down on a cocktail table and let my arms drop to my sides, just for a moment.

The silence rang almost as loudly as the chaos had. Tomorrow was my last chance to pull everything together before the wedding party arrived. And I still had to coordinate with the florist and the cake and the band and a million other things waiting to go wrong.

I had forty-eight hours to turn this place into a winter wonderland. There wasn’t room for mistakes. And there wasn’t room for Hayes Granger, either—no matter how he kept materializing like a shadow and making it impossible to breathe.